


I want to hear you howl

by empty_throne



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Magic, Breathplay, Demons, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Pre-Canon, Transsexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_throne/pseuds/empty_throne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadriana decides to test the limits of her power.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm not your slave," Fenris said, when Hadriana snapped her fingers and told him to come along like a good dog.

The young mage woman smiled. Not a magister, not yet, but she would be soon--if Danarius didn't kill her first. Hadriana walked that knife-edge line, ambitious enough to be useful, ambitious enough to maybe be a threat. A dangerous line, and the only way to win the game.

Her smile was not friendly. "It is not for a slave to question his betters. Especially not when his master has given orders. You're to do as I say, dog; I have an experiment I wish to conduct, and Danarius has given you to me for the night."

Fenris' fingers curled into half-fists before he could stop them. At first the tattoos had only been a sign of pain, the mind-destroying agony that formed his earliest remaining memory. But once Danarius judged him recovered enough to be used, Fenris had begun to learn what power his suffering had bought. The first time the lyrium blazed up and sent his fist plunging through flesh and bone to wrap around a heart, he'd felt a surge of vicious joy. Did Hadriana want him to murder someone else? That, as much as the prospect of ripping out her heart, tensed his arms and brought the lyrium markings to wakefulness. Killing Hadriana would be better, but the other would be good, too.

She walked away without looking to see if he would follow. He did, because it wasn't worth the price of resisting, and imagined what it would feel like to tear her spine from her vulnerable back. Nonsense, of course; Hadriana was anything but vulnerable. Still, a man could dream.

They descended into the cellar. Danarius had a tower room for his workings, from which he could enjoy looking out over the world he ruled, but his apprentices were relegated to the lower reaches of the estate. Hadriana no longer had to share with others, though. The room to which she led Fenris was deserted except for a single chained slave in the corner.

A human girl, who began whimpering as soon as the mage entered the room. She knew what she was here for. Slaves who were going to fetch and carry weren't chained to the wall. But this time, Fenris thought, she might be wrong. Instead of bleeding out for Hadriana's spells, the girl might get a quick death. It all depended on what Hadriana had brought him here to do.

The mage gestured impatiently for him to cross the sigil-marked floor and join her at the wall. No, not join her--she pointed at the empty set of shackles next to the slave girl. Fenris' heartbeat quickened. "What do you mean?" he growled, body tensing. "I'm not--"

"You're going to do as I say," Hadriana snapped. "Or do I need to teach you your place first? Danarius will know of your disobedience; decide quickly, dog, how badly you want to suffer for it."

She wouldn't kill him. Would she? Danarius had never been slow to let any slave know when they displeased him; surely he would not give Fenris over to Hadriana without at least extracting a measure of vengeance first. And he was too valuable to kill. The lyrium in his skin--he had killed as Danarius bid, had pleased the magister with his skill--

Hadriana's jaw hardened with anger. Fenris moved before his fear could grow, before his body could betray him by trembling in front of her. He placed his back against the wall; she made a complex motion with one hand, and the shackles rose to fasten around his ankles and wrists. Helpless, now. But he'd been helpless when he walked in here, helpless the moment Hadriana came to find him. Magic. The tattoos gave him a measure of resistance to it, but in the end he was the pawn of anyone with power.

The younger mages liked to make a complex dance out of their spellcasting, impressing people with sonorous chanting and arcane gestures. Hadriana was experienced enough not to bother. As soon as Fenris was chained, she drew a knife from her sleeve and cut the slave girl's throat. Blood cascaded down in a crimson sheet, and Hadriana muttered the words in a quick, almost offhand tone.

Red light blazed up from the floor. Fenris knew enough to recognize the various symbols as summoning circles; Hadriana had only activated one. The air within rippled, turning and warping like bad glass as the barrier between the waking world and the Fade thinned and tore. When it cleared, a figure stood barefoot on the stone.

Barefoot, and bare everywhere else, too. Fenris' lip curled as he recognized the voluptuous, half-human form of a desire demon. Was this Hadriana's experiment--to see if he could tear the heart from such a creature? He didn't even know if they _had_ hearts. But he was willing to try.

She wouldn't have chained him to the wall, if that was her aim.

"What do you desire?" the demon asked. A thousand suggestions laced through her words, supernatural echoes of possibility. The finger trailing down her hip was the least of them. Fenris' blood heated, but not at the thought of that lush body--not _only_. Freedom from Danarius. Freedom from all mages. His hands, red with blood, ripping through all those who had made his life a misery. The thoughts were all the more disturbing because the fury that usually drove them was gone; rage was not this demon's province. No, the thrill he felt was bloodlust, in the purest, most horrific sense of the word.

Fenris focused on his breathing, and the hard edge of the shackles biting into his wrists. The demon could not force him to do anything. They relied on influence, beckoning people to the edge of the cliff. It was his choice to step over or not, and he would not give in.

The demon wasn't there to deal with him, anyway. Hadriana had summoned her, and the sigils in the floor kept the creature bound.

"I desire knowledge," the mage said. Her tone was clinical, but something shivered beneath that mask. She _did_ desire knowledge, because with it came power. And that, too, was something a desire demon could offer to its thralls. "In exchange, I will give you fleshly pleasure."

The demon's mouth bent in a moue, no less effective for being so precisely calculated. "A small price--though one suited to my nature. Surely the knowledge you seek is not so small, or you would not have troubled me."

Hadriana's back was to Fenris; he could not read her expression. Only hear the satisfaction as she said, "The two things go hand in hand. I wish to test the limits of my control, and your payment will give me my answer."

The cellar room went silent, and then the demon sighed in delighted understanding. The sound crawled under Fenris' skin; he clenched his hands against it. Nothing that made a desire demon so pleased could bode well. The creature said, "By all means, let us see what you are capable of. You have made me very curious indeed."

"We have a deal?" Hadriana asked. She was too experienced not to verify the terms before agreeing to anything. "You gain the fleshly pleasures of the next hour, nothing more."

"An hour," the demon said, disappointed. "Very well."

Fenris could not help jerking in his chains when Hadriana turned to face him. She still had the knife out, wet with the dead girl's blood. "If you hurt me--" he said, not even knowing how he would finish the sentence. What would he do? What _could_ he do? If Danarius had given permission for this ...

Hadriana ignored his words. With quick strokes she cut the tunic off his chest, the trews from his legs, leaving him only in a loincloth. She was careful not to bring her head close enough for Fenris to knee her in the face. He would have paid the price for it later, and couldn't have put much force behind it in any case, but he wanted to strike her, if only to delay what Hadriana had in mind. "I won't do it," he snarled, looking anywhere but at the desire demon. "Torture me how you like, _I won't_."

"Torture," Hadriana said, on a breathy laugh. "It would be interesting to try some day, but no--Danarius considers you too valuable for that. I had something else in mind." She laid the tip of the knife against the bare skin of his chest and cut.

The lines she carved ran between the veins of lyrium, never crossing the tattoos. Shallow cuts, not deep enough to do more than sting, but enough to bleed. Droplets of red slid down Fenris' body. Then the tattoos began to vibrate in his flesh ... because Hadriana was drawing power from his blood.

He hissed in understanding. The markings protected him against magic--even against blood magic--but protection was not immunity. They might be enough to defend him against power drawn from the dead girl hanging in the shackles at his side, but with his _own_ blood fueling the spell? This was what Hadriana was testing. This was why she had chained him to the wall. And he knew what she was going to make him do.

He fought it. Closed his eyes, held his breath, dragged at the shackles until his wrists screamed in protest. Anything to distract himself from the world around him, to keep his mind focused on his body. He could feel Hadriana weaving a net of magic around him, the power sinking into his limbs. The lyrium fought her, but the connection was too strong. Against his will, his body relaxed, standing at ease in his chains.

Hadriana made a pleased noise. Fenris' eyes opened, and his gaze fixed on the desire demon. The creature ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, one hand rising to cup her own breast. _It's a demon_ , Fenris thought desperately, looking at the horns, the claws, _it's a monster, whatever appearance it gives itself--it's foul and twisted and wrong_ and it didn't matter what he howled in the cage of his mind, because his body was no longer under his control.

No. It _did_ matter. He had to keep fighting. Hadriana's mastery of him might falter. The further the acts she commanded him to were from his own inclination, the harder it would be for her to maintain control. Fenris began silently chanting _no, no, no_ , even as his cock hardened, even as the manacles fell away and he walked forward to join the demon in the circle.

His puppeted mouth sought out the demon's breast, the same one she had been caressing a moment before. Her nipple was already hard; he flicked his tongue over it, teeth scraping the smooth skin to either side before closing on the more delicate flesh. Fenris tried to make himself bite down, but Hadriana would not let him. His left hand slid between the demon's legs, gliding through the wetness there. The demon gasped in sensuous pleasure, grinding against him. She bent to run her tongue along the edge of his ear, hands gripping his hair, panting filthy encouragement in a rough, eager whisper. Fenris lifted his face from her breast and took her mouth, tongue plunging between her lips, feeling her answer him in kind.

Hadriana, all of this was Hadriana--he had to remember! But he realized, with dawning horror, that it wasn't. Oh, the mage was controlling him--that much was certain. She was not, however, dictating his every move. When he broke away from the demon's mouth to kiss and bite at her neck, Hadriana did not choose where he touched, how long he stayed. Her spell was directing him to fuck the demon, and he had no doubt that she would put him through every act her imagination could devise. But the specifics were a tangled knot of the desire demon's power and Fenris' own response to it. His rational mind hated the creature in his arms, and would have killed her if he could. The rest of him was being driven by animal passion. Such desire was a thing of blood, and Hadriana had his; with it, she could make him hard, make him rut against the demon's naked body, make him the slave of his own base impulses, against his conscious will.

He bore the demon to the ground, mouth still locked to hers, hand still buried between her legs. His fingers plunged in and out, thumb rubbing in counterpoint, until the demon cried out in ecstasy. The sound was more than mortal: it was the pleasure of every woman who had ever peaked, every man who had ever spilled his seed. Fenris' cock ached in response. He wanted to be sick.

Hadriana made him stand. The desire demon rose to her knees, as eager now as ever. There would be no tiring this creature. Gaze never leaving his face, she ran her hands up his thighs, until she reached the cord that held his loincloth in place. The animal side of Fenris longed to tear the scrap of cloth away. His hatred screamed for him to kill her. Hadriana let him do neither; he had to stand, panting, as the demon rubbed her face against his groin, sending a faint thrill of pleasure through him, but not enough, not enough.

She drew the cord down slowly, freeing his cock. Then she began to tease him, a slow lick along the underside, a brief flick at the head. Her claws dragged tantalizingly over his sack. Fenris gritted his teeth, and he didn't know whether that was him, or Hadriana, or the animal part that wanted to--

His hands clamped down on the demon's head, and he thrust his full length into her mouth. The creature took him easily, moaning so the sound vibrated down his shaft. Fenris' hips bucked, slamming forward with a force that would have bruised any mortal woman. But there was no mistaking this for a woman; her horns and claws and violet skin gave the lie to that. What he was fucking was a monster. The sight below him was vile, perverted--the demon's mouth stretched around his cock, her throat convulsing at each thrust, her eyes glazed with pleasure. It sickened him. It aroused him. He could no longer tell the two apart.

"Look at her." The voice was Hadriana's, breaking into his thoughts. "This is a magister's power, dog: to make the demons serve us in whatever way we see fit. Is it not a perfect sight? Such beauty, such depravity, all kneeling at your feet." She laughed, a rich, satisfied sound. "And that is only the beginning. I can make you use her for your pleasure, even while you despise yourself for doing it. I can make you watch as you spill yourself into her, then make you crawl to do it again. I can make you plead with her to violate you in a hundred ways, in front of all the magisters of Minrathous, and then thank me for it when she is done.

"Beg for it, dog. I want to hear you howl."

And Hadriana released his voice.

Fenris wanted to spit curses at her, threats, promises of the violence he would inflict on her someday. But the rest of him was still under her control; he still rutted in the demon's mouth, and his voice betrayed him with animal grunts. He had to focus--he didn't want this--

Word by word, he forced it out. "I ... swear ..."

The demon's tongue danced around his cock, her fingers around his sack. Sweat sheened her violet skin; she seemed to be in ecstasy, as if he were fucking her cunt instead of her mouth.

"By ... all ... the ... gods ..."

" _Beg for it,_ " Hadriana whispered.

It was too much. If Hadriana had released him entirely, Fenris couldn't have stopped himself from driving his cock home. His grip tightened on the demon's head; he thrust hard into her mouth. "Oh _gods_ ..."

He was lost, falling, disintegrating into his climax. Spilling himself into the demon's mouth, even as she laughed. Despising the creature. Despising Hadriana. But most of all, despising himself, for the stain of this moment. Unspeakable pleasure, taken from the body of a monster, that he hadn't been strong enough to resist.

The only thing that kept him on his feet was Hadriana's spell. As if from a great distance, he heard the demon say, "You gave me one hour, mage. Our time is not yet done."

"Indeed," Hadriana said, and the torment began again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadriana's games continue. Warning for breathplay, and also demons using transsexualism for their own entertainment.

The demon licked a drop of blood from his hip, where it had trailed down from Hadriana's cuts. It stained her lower lip briefly before she sucked the trace away, smiling up at him through her lashes. Then she rose from her knees, tongue darting out to lap up more of his blood from the cuts. The warmth and wetness of it would have made Fenris shiver, had Hadriana not kept him still.

He heard the magister say, "I am surprised you bother with such diversions."

It made the demon laugh. The sound seemed to crawl up Fenris' spine. He was still hard--Hadriana made sure of that--and even though he had just spent himself, that laugh made him ache for more. The demon said, "I cannot take over this one's mind directly, but that does not mean I cannot affect him. And it pleases me to make him desire me."

Fenris wanted to spit curses at her, swear by all the gods that he desired nothing more than her death. But Hadriana had taken control of his voice again.

The demon moved behind him, fingers brushing feather-light over his bare skin. She avoided the lyrium markings, and he wondered if they hurt her. If so, she concealed it well; he had gripped her head tightly while fucking her mouth, and the tattoos lined his palms.

"Would it interest you to see him serve?" the demon asked.

"He is a slave," Hadriana said. "Service is his purpose in existing. But--" Fenris could just barely see her, out of the corner of his eye; she was looking at the demon, and something she saw there made her laugh. "Yes. I would find that very interesting."

She made him turn then, sinking down onto his knees, mirroring the position the desire demon had taken. And when he knelt, Fenris saw why.

Such demons could take on any appearance they pleased. Male, female--or something in between.

The creature still had horns and claws; she still had breasts and a cunt. But in front of the latter, she now had a cock, hard and ready, which she brushed across Fenris' lips.

"I've had to do this often enough myself," Hadriana said, with venom in her tone. "Come, dog. Let me show you how it's done."

She made his tongue dart out and lap at the head of the demon's cock. The skin was soft, and unnaturally hot. Fenris licked again, trailing a circle around the head before engulfing it with his mouth. The warmth swelled through his tongue and lips as he sucked. The demon had no sack for him to toy with, but Hadriana sent one hand back to her slit, his finger easily sliding in once more.

In a way, this was better. Fenris still hated the creature in front of him; he still would have killed the demon if he could. But at least there was no pleasure in this. No betrayal, his body shuddering in ecstasy while his mind screamed denial. He was being forced to serve, and Hadriana was right: service was the lot of a slave. He was used to this.

He still tried to resist, of course, because he refused to surrender. But resistance was simpler, now. As he swallowed the demon's cock, the hot length of it filling his mouth and throat, he entertained visions of biting down with all his strength, and wondered if demon blood would be as red as his own. As he worked his fingers in and out of her cunt, he wondered if the lyrium tattoos would let him reach up through her body and tear her heart out from below. And he thought about what Hadriana had said-- _I've had to do this often enough myself_ \--and wondered who she'd been forced to serve. Danarius, certainly. How many others?

The demon took his head in her hands, as he'd done to her a moment before, and began to fuck his face. Not with the same animal fury, though; she took her time, sliding her cock gently down his open throat, drawing it out once more with agonizing slowness. Fenris felt every inch of it, gliding over his tongue, filling his throat. His hand left her cunt and gripped her hip, his body shifting to give her better access.

And then the demon thrust hard into him, the violet skin of her belly eclipsing his vision. This time, however, she did not withdraw.

"Look," the demon said, her voice rippling with amusement. "A lovely sight, is it not? That body, with all the delicacy of an elf, all the strength of the lyrium carved into it. I can see why you wanted him to kneel." Her hand caressed the line of his jaw, traced along the edge of his lips. "And that face! You can control his expression, mage, but not the hatred in his eyes. They burn with the desire to kill, while his mouth gapes like a whore's."

She still had not withdrawn. Her cock stopped his breath, closing off his throat. Hadriana's control kept him from gagging, retching with the instinctive desire to expel the invader, but the impulse was there. He could not breathe. With every second that passed, his heart beat louder, his lungs pleading for air.

Hadriana laughed. "Indeed. I should have thought to commission an artist. I would like a painting of this on my wall."

His vision was darkening at the edges. Fenris still knelt, his body pliant, his mouth wrapped gently around the demon's cock, face relaxed in an expression of pleasure. But he was suffocating on it, unable to draw breath--

\--and as his instincts howled for him to pull back, to break free, to draw in life-giving air, he felt the spell's hold over him slipping.

Blood magic could control him, but not to the point of death. And so Fenris was torn in three: his body welcoming the demon's cock at Hadriana's command, his instincts screaming to escape it, and what remained of his rational thought praying to stay like this just a moment longer. To come as close as he could to death, and so to break free.

His fingers curled in, halfway to fists ... and that was _his_ movement, not Hadriana's.

She must have seen it. She drew him back, off the demon's cock, the head slipping out to just barely touch his lower lip. Air rushed to take its place. The breaths he drew in were ragged, not wholly controlled; his body's impulses couldn't be quelled. But Fenris felt his freedom vanishing. The chance had been there, for an instant. Now it was gone.

The demon's laugh was low and quiet. "Almost," she whispered, bending to kiss his abused mouth.

Then she straightened, turning her attention once more to Hadriana. "Well, mage? Your hour draws to a close. What pleasure shall I take now?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Every slave is a whore," Hadriana said, pronouncing each word with venemous precision. "Let this end as it should."

She didn't need to specify what she meant. The demon laughed again, stroking her cock, and knelt. Hadriana turned Fenris so he was on his hands and knees, ass raised for the demon's use. He felt the slickness of his own saliva touching his rim, and then the demon thrust in.

Hadriana's control of his body was restored. She could have made him tight, so that the demon's intrusion would hurt, maybe even make him bleed again. But the mage said, "You'd like to resist it, wouldn't you? You would love for it to hurt to walk tomorrow, because every twinge of pain would be proof that this was done against your will. No, dog--I don't think I'll give you that gift."

She made him loose instead, open and welcoming to the demon's cock. The demon matched the feeling, stroking in gently rather than driving home with brutal force. It was a parody of tenderness, a sickening mockery of true union. Hadriana made him relax into it, his body surrendering to the moment, and pleasure began to build deep inside him, pleasure he could not escape.

He heard the mage's breath hiss between her teeth. "Perfect," she whispered. Then he heard a brief chant, saw a mirror lift from the far side of the room and float over to rest near where he knelt. Her voice rich with satisfaction, Hadriana said, "Look."

And with her spell forcing him, Fenris looked.

He saw himself as if through the eyes of a stranger. Hadriana had placed the mirror to reflect the whole scene: his kneeling form, stretched out across the floor, and the demon sodomizing him from above. His muscles were long and taut, carved with lyrium and slick with sweat. The torchlight gilded him elegantly, tinting his white hair gold, limning his shoulders and back, casting a shadow from the arch of his ribs. His cock jutted out, insistently hard, and his balls swung with each thrust from the demon. More than anything, though, it was the sight of his own face that struck Fenris like a blow: mouth slack with pleasure and need, eyes half-lidded, giving in fully to the experience.

It was a perfect image, wanton and obscene. The demon seemed to burn with her own light, perfect breasts swaying, cock sliding home with tantalizing delicacy. Fenris fought to fight against it, fought to reject the scene in which he lived, fought to remember that there was a time when he had control of his own body and would have stopped this with one bloody, tearing hand. But his will had exhausted itself. Hadriana had posed him like the perfect whore, and with the demon's cock gliding deep into his unresisting flesh, the memory of anything other than this moment seemed like a distant dream.

The demon drew her clawed hand down his back, hard enough to score thin lines of blood across the tattoos. Hadriana moaned--a sound of power; a sound of ecstasy. There was no difference between them, not any more. "Yes," the magister whispered, and slid one hand within her robes.

The claws wrapped themselves around Fenris' cock, gripping, stroking. He could not tell whether the breath that shuddered from him did so on his own command or Hadriana's. The demon's cock thickened and her pace increased, hips grinding against his ass, and Fenris leaned back into it, seeking the contact, the place within him where friction became bliss. The thing fucking him was an atrocity, an offense to the Maker, inhuman and wrong, but the pleasure it wrought in him could not be refused. The demon's hand tightened on his cock, pulling almost to the point of pain, flesh expanding within him until he thought he might die of it, and then he spent himself into that hand, helplessly, crying out at the release, collapsing to the cool stone with the demon still buried deep inside.

As he lay there, panting, weak with the aftermath of ecstasy, he realized he was free.

Somewhere in there--at some point while the demon was fucking him--the spell controlling him had ended.

Fenris' body tried to spring into motion. He managed to drag himself a pace or so across the floor, scrabbling away from the demon, its cock slipping out of him and leaving him empty. He lacked the strength to rise, though. The most he could manage was to get one knee under him, turning face the demon, then Hadriana, hand outstretched, tattoos flickering weakly, torn as to which one he should kill first.

Sick horror kept him from going any further. Hadriana had released him. He didn't know when, but it had been before his climax. Those last moments, the cries and the writhing and the peak that ended it ... those were not the mage's doing.

They were his own.

The demon knew it, too. She laughed at him, cock receding into the shape she had borne when she first appeared. She drew one hand down her body, a sensuous reminder of the flesh that had given him so much unwanted pleasure. "I feed off the desires of women and men," she said, her voice a throaty purr. "But I think no desires in a thousand years have been as delicious to me as yours."

Fenris sank to the stone, too weak to keep himself upright. He could still see himself in the mirror, exhausted and bloody, limp from the exertions forced upon him--and those he had undertaken of his own free will. Nausea wracked him. He barely heard it as Hadriana spoke the words dismissing the demon, barely noticed as the light dimmed with the snuffing of the torches. He only heard Hadriana's last words.

"I will tell the master that you enjoyed yourself, dog."

Then she left, locking the door behind her, leaving him curled on the stone with the sweat drying cold on his skin.

**Author's Note:**

> Personally I think desire demons should look like whatever the observer finds hottest, but in this case it worked better to go with the standard look from the games (at least mostly).


End file.
